Brothers
by Witchy Bee
Summary: Follows Carver's life after becoming a Grey Warden.


**A/N:** This was originally part of my other Carver story entitled A Story of His Own, but I've decided to make it a companion/AU to that story, which you don't really have to read to understand this. But a few things might be slightly confusing. Review if you would be so kind.

)O(

"How are you holding up?" asks Alistair. Just Alistair, no surname. It's meant as a way of symbolically casting off one's former life, cutting all ties to dedicate oneself completely to the Wardens.

Carver wonders if this means he is no longer a Hawke, but says nothing.

"I couldn't sleep either after my Joining," Alistair continues. "The nightmares, the archdemon roaring in my head...Well, there was a Blight on, then, you know. It should be easier for you, I expect. You're lucky."

"Lucky," he turns the word over bitterly in his mouth. It tastes like darkspawn blood. "Don't you remember me?"

"What?" Alistair blinks. "Have we met before?"

"I was _there,_ at Ostagar. You nearly slit my throat just for mentioning Loghain, but Solona stopped you. Turns out she's my cousin, by the way."

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow, then frowns as memories of a time he'd rather forget flood his mind. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly back then. I felt betrayed and...so angry."

"I know. You didn't mean to hurt anyone. I...I know how that is."

Silence settles in the air between them before Alistair speaks again, softly. "Maker, I miss Solona. I never would've made it without her. She always had a plan, and if that didn't work, she'd throw a fireball. But I think she preferred healing. Everywhere we went, she wanted to help anyone she could. The Deep Roads broke her a little."

Everyone knows of how Solona Amell selflessly gave her life to slay the archdemon and end the Fifth Blight.

"I have a sister like that," Carver says.

. . .

_He wasn't sure exactly when all the strength had drained from him. He felt...wrong.  
_

_Carver focused on taking steady, deep breaths. The pain in his head intensified, now pulsing behind his eyes and trying to escape through the top of his skull. Tainted blood spread quickly; soon Carver's limbs would be too weak to support his own weight._

_He remembered that nameless soldier begging for death, veins turning black and glassy eyes brimming with fear...  
_

_Someone shouted Carver's name._

_Suddenly he found himself lying on the stone remains of an ancient dwarven highway that now belonged to the darkspawn. Concerned faces peered down at him._

_"How long?" Marian asked quietly with an undertone of cracking ice._

_"I...I don't know."_

_"How long?" she demanded again, harsher this time, more afraid._

_"A day...maybe two," Carver admitted. "I wasn't sure..."_

_"Damn it, Brother!"_

_"It's the Blight...isn't it? Just like that templar, Wesley. I'll...be dead soon..."_

_"He won't make it to the surface," Varric said regretfully. "I'll kill Bartrand for this. I was planning to kill him anyway, but now I'll make sure it really hurts."_

_Voices blurred around him. Varric's anger, Merrill's desperate pleading that they must save him somehow, Anders' frantic words to Marian. Her silent rage and determination spoke volumes. Carver tried to concentrate on his sister. He grasped her hand very tightly and looked into her gray eyes._

_"If I...when it gets worse," he said shakily. "Please...just end it."_

_"Eager to die, are you?" Marian replied flatly. "No, I'll drag your ungrateful ass out of the Fade, Carver. I already failed Bethany. You and Mother said as much, and I've reminded myself a thousand times. I won't lose anyone else, understand?"_

_But before he could respond, Anders interrupted: "You won't have to; there are Grey Wardens nearby. I can sense them."_

_Some of the details after were unclear. His memory was strewn with black splotches. Someone hauled Carver to his feet and put his arm around their shoulder. Maker, there was no strength left for him to do anything but be dragged along. Why couldn't they just kill him here?_

_An argument, impossible to comprehend the words. The song in his head was simply too loud. Carver tried to protest as his limp body was given to another. A man with armor, it seemed. Who could that be, then? Aveline wasn't here..._

_Marian's voice reached his fading senses. "I guess it's just one more reason for you to be angry at me, huh? Saving your life like this. But for the record, it was Anders' idea."_

_Unfamiliar voices now..._

_"But, Stroud, shouldn't we...?"_

_"He doesn't have that much time, Alistair."_

_Someone mixed together the contents of three vials together...black, blue, red..._

_A chalice was brought to his lips...then pain and fitful darkness..._

_"From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."_

_When Carver awoke, his head was blessedly quiet but still throbbing. Two slightly worried faces watched him._

_"Welcome, Brother," the older of the men said in a thick Orlesian accent._

. . .

Carver wonders where they are right now. Did Mother cry when Marian told her the news, or are they happy he's gone? What about Merrill? What did Mother cook for supper tonight? He finds himself internally asking many odd little questions like that.

Is this what it feels like to miss your family? It isn't as if he hasn't ever been away from home for a long period of time. There was Ostagar, of course. So it can't have anything to do with the knowing he might never see them again, because there had been a good chance of that before Ostagar, too.

"I hope you prove to be a valuable asset to the Wardens, Carver," Stroud says. "Your sister was very adamant that you join us."

"She threatened you, didn't she? She's always doing that."

"It is because she cares about you. I understand."

"Well, I don't need her," Carver snaps. "And I don't need your sympathy, if that's what this is."

Stroud's voice hardens slightly. "Listen, I know you are angry. You did not ask to become a Grey Warden. You are not the first and you will not be the last, Carver; many have come to this calling in exactly the same way. It is a perfectly understandable reaction. No one likes having choices made for them, but the important thing is you're alive. I wish I could give you more time. Unfortunately, right now the darkspawn demand our full attention."

"Yes, sir," Carver responds with little enthusiasm, falling back on old habits drilled into him while in the army.

Stroud smiles warmly. "Formality will not be necessary here. We're all brothers."


End file.
